


You and Me Baby, We Like to Dance Around

by glassessay



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Fake Theon Greyjoy/Ygritte, M/M, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Jeyne Westerling/Robb Stark, Minor Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Rated T for Theon, Triwizard Tournament, it's really just the yule ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassessay/pseuds/glassessay
Summary: “Go to the ball with me.” He says to Ygritte.“Okay.”“You don’t want to hear an explanation? Make sure I’m not actually coming onto you?”“It’s not that hard to figure out.” She rolls her eyes. “We go together, be super-hot and fake into each other, Jon realizes he should take me out before he loses his chance, and his brother realizes he’s been in love with you for probably years and confesses as soon as he realizes we’re not actually dating.”Well, she had him there.





	You and Me Baby, We Like to Dance Around

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody had to write this AU and I guess it was me.

They’re in the library, that weekend, Theon beyond even pretending to work on his charms essay—what Professor Seaworth doesn’t know won’t hurt him—and Robb studiously going over class notes, despite being excused from classes due to the tournament. He had said something about _wanting a decent education so he could get a job after graduation, Theon,_ never mind that the Aurors would accept him alongside his father in a heartbeat. It was too bloody Ravenclaw for someone who bled bravery, but Theon had still offered up his NEWT-level transfiguration notes without complaining too much.

Not that Robb was reading anything half so useful right now, pouring over whatever chicken scratch passed for Jon’s divination notes. Theon had mocked him endlessly when the broody bastard had first signed up for such a useless subject, but after enough years of Jon just shaking his head and muttering about approaching season, Theon had given up.

Still, Robb doesn’t actually need to study the ridiculous topic, and Theon is bored.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair after checking Maester Ludwin isn’t around to scold. “Funny thing, how a Stark ended up in every champion couple, isn’t it?”

Robb makes a _hmming_ noise, not looking up from his papers. Theon grins.

“I mean, we all knew you’d be up there for us, and I can’t say I’m too surprised about the Beauxbatons girl asking Sansa, but even Arya? Wow. Three out of three for House Stark.”

“What?” Robb looks up, frowning. _There we go_ , Theon thinks. “Arya’s going to the ball?”

“Fourth years _are_ allowed, Robb.”

“But it’s Arya,” Robb says, which, point. Theon gives a half-hearted shrug. “Who is she going with?”

“That Durmstrang guy. Gendry, I think.”

“The champion?” Robb looks more confused each second. Really, Theon knows he’s busy preparing for whatever tasks are left, but he thought Robb paid more attention to his younger siblings than this.

“Apparently she stormed up to him in the middle of a corridor and just told him they were going together. Not that he’s complaining.” Theon drums his fingers on the table. “Did your parents set out to raise a family of heartbreakers, or did it just happen?”

“He’s too old for her,” Robb scowls, before sighing. “Not that I could do anything to change her mind.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t already know this,” Theon says.

“I’ve been… preoccupied.” Robb’s face turns the slightest shade of pink. Theon raises his eyebrows.

“Uh huh,” he says, looking pointedly between his own unfinished essay and Robb’s collection of other people’s notes.

“I’ve been thinking about who I want to take to the ball,” The blush is out fully, now, red creeping up to Robb’s ears. Theon’s heart jolts, racing.

“Oh?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level. It’s not that he expects Robb to ask him—but it’s also not that he doesn’t expect it, would actually really like it, has been thinking about it since they found out there was going to be a ball in the first place. Has, if he’s being brutally honest with himself, been hoping Robb would ask him out for nearly three years now.

He’s in love with his best friend. He’s—It’s—He’s dealing.

“Jeyne Westerling asked me.” Robbs says. Theon blinks. Probably a few too many times.

“Her and half the school,” he jokes. He’d been there for a number of those occasions, and he’s not too proud to admit the tiny thrill it gave him to see Robb turn other people down.

“I think I’m going to say yes.” Robb says, mostly into the table. Theon’s chair slams to the floor.

“You are?” He says, about an octave higher than he wanted to. Robb doesn’t seem to notice.

“She asked me when I asked to borrow her potions notes, and, well, she’s pretty, and nice, and she won’t let me make a fool of myself when we’re dancing.”

Theon is pretty. And, well, _nice enough_ , to Robb at least. And a better dancer than most of the school, let alone Jeyne Westerling.

“I’m not agreeing to marry her or anything, it’s just one night, and I think it’ll be a nice night, and I have to take someone and it’s not like—”

_It’s not like what?!_ Theon wants to scream. He also just wants to scream, generally.

“Anyway,” Robb clears his throat. He’s still quite pink, and Theon is still quite stunned. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Fun,” Theon echoes.

“Especially since you’ll be there, right?” Robb’s smiling hopefully at him and, god. Theon’s a goner.

“And miss a lifetime of blackmail material?” He says, feigning levity. “You can’t escape that easily, Stark.”

Robb grins, quick and bright, then bites his lip. “Are you going with anyone?”

“I’m Theon Greyjoy,” he smirks. “What do you think?”

Damn, damn, and god fucking damn.

*

Thing is, Theon can’t actually think of anyone he wants to go to the Yule Ball with. (Well. Other than the obvious, very off-limits choice.) Ros had graduated last year, all the other girls he knows are spoken for or _twelve_ , and he just flat-out doesn’t know any blokes who’d be willing to go with him. He could make a shot in the dark and ask someone from one of the other schools, but he’s not thrilled by the possibility of public rejection being so intrinsic to that option.

And, well, a part of him thinks it isn’t quite fair to ask someone as a date when he’s probably going to spend the entire night staring at Robb. Pathetic, and also a shitty thing to do to someone.

The answer, like many of the good things in Theon’s life, comes to him during lunch.

One of the Durmstrang girls, red-haired and boisterous and probably named Ygritte, if Theon can remember right, is sitting sideways at the Hufflepuff table next to Jon. About as close as one could get without sitting _on_ Jon instead.

From what Theon can see, one table over, the girl is shamelessly hitting on Jon, who’s bright red and likely monosyllabic. It’s the same thing that’s been going on for nearly a month now.

Jon, Theon knows from listening to Robb complain about it too many times, is thoroughly infatuated with the girl, but stuck at a stand-still by his fear of being dumped and discarded as soon as the Tournament was over.

Theon hates him. Just a little bit.

Jon stands up, suddenly, makes a little nod of goodbye to Ygritte, and scurries over toward the exit. Samwell Tarly is there, waiting, and he falls into step beside Jon as the two of them leave.

Theon looks back over toward the Hufflepuff table, where Ygritte is standing, visibly scowling, and starting to follow the two boys. Theon stands quickly from the table and hurries over stop Ygritte. He places himself firmly in front of her just as they both exit the great hall, smiling his most charming smile.

Ygritte scowls.

“Get out of my way,” she says, trying to push past him. He only doesn’t budge because of a lifetime spent near Asha and Arya.

“Ah, Ygritte! Fancy seeing you here—”

“I said _move_ , Greyjoy.” She growls. Really, so charming. No wonder she’s after Jon. “You’re in my bloody way—"

“I have a proposition for you, Ygritte.” He says, dropping the smile. “And I think you’ll want to hear it out.”

“I’m not having sex with you.” She crosses her arms.

“… _Jesus Christ_ that’s not—that’s not what I meant.” Good god, what is he getting himself into.

“What, Greyjoy? Not into gingers?” Her grin is more teeth than anything else, and Theon is seriously reconsidering his life choices. “Or maybe I’m just not that right one?”

“Look, just hear me out, alright?” he snaps. Her eyes narrow, but she nods. He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase this without risking his life. “Now, you’re obviously having a little trouble getting Jon to ask you to the Yule Ball,” Somehow, her eyes narrow even more. He holds up a placating hand. “Which, given that Jon’s been an idiot for at least as long as I’ve known him, if not longer, not entirely your fault. He’s also one of the more oblivious people I know, so I know you, me, and the rest of the world think you’re being incredibly obvious, but. Jon’s bad at recognizing things that aren’t directly in front of his face.” Her face twitches in agreement, and he continues. “Since your current tactic isn’t working, use another one. Go to the ball with me.”

She looks at him, appraising, and he resists the urge to squirm. Eventually, he opens his mouth the explain, but she cuts him off.

“Okay.” He blinks.

“You don’t want to hear an explanation? Make sure I’m not actually coming onto you?”

 “It’s not that hard to figure out.” She rolls her eyes. “We go together, be super-hot and fake into each other, Jon realizes he should take me out before he loses his chance, and his brother realizes he’s been in love with you for probably years and confesses as soon as he realizes we’re not actually dating.”

Well, she had him there.

“Ygritte,” Theon says, grin growing. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.” She snorts.

“Whatever.”

*

They start the next morning.

Theon, because he is maybe a little bit sad, knows the time when Robb usually makes it down to breakfast. He also knows, because of a lot of time spent listening to siblings ribbing each other, that Jon is perpetually ten minutes later to breakfast than Robb, no matter how early he wakes up. Theon tells Ygritte he’ll show up roughly the same time as Jon—she’ll show up five minutes later, and make a point of sitting with Theon, instead of her now usual spot next to Jon.

It all goes according to plan until Theon sits back with his full plate and Robb slides into the empty spot across from him at the same time Ygritte walks into the Great Hall.

“Morning, Robb,” he says, locking eyes with Ygritte. She looks at Jon, eating at the Hufflepuff table, then at Robb’s back. Theon does his best to shrug with his face without Robb noticing.

“Theon,” Robb says, and Theon flicks his eyes back to him. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

“Good morning to you too, Robb.” Ygritte has just turned the corner of the table.

“Right, good morning, sorry.” She’s halfway toward them now, and Theon’s eyes are flicking back between the other two rapidly. “And I, well, it’s only—What I’m trying to say—”

“Theon!” Ygritte crows, sliding into place next to him. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Oh, only the finest of delicacies,” He smirks as flirtatiously as he can, gesturing out toward the spread. “Sausage, eggs, and something that resembled toast once.”

“Brilliant.” She leans across him to grab a piece of toast of his plate. _Good show_ , he thinks, grinning. While chewing, she turns to Robb. “Oh, sorry I interrupted. Robb, right?”

“Ygritte.” Rob nods, then smiles slightly. “No interrupting, I was actually just going. I’ll see you later, Theon.”

“Well,” Ygritte says as they watch Robb walk away. “I definitely interrupted him. What was he so anxious to tell you?”

“Oh, uh, something about Arya, probably.” He takes a bite of his breakfast. Robb has made his way over to Jon, speaking softly to him about something.

“The one Gendry asked?” She asks, nose wrinkling.

“She’s their little sister,” he says, looking back to Ygritte just as Jon looks over at them. “Don’t look, but Jon’s noticed us.”

“Does he look like he’s pining?” She steals another bite of food off his plate. Theon isn’t sure he’d describe Jon’s face as _pining_ , exactly. “Or heartbroken?”

“If by ‘heartbroken’ you mean ‘as emotionally constipated as usual’ then yes.”

She punches his arm. It _hurts_. “Don’t be a shit. Now, come on. Let’s leave before I have to figure out more ways to fawn over you.”

Theon spares one last, mournful look for his plate of food, then slings an arm around Ygritte and follows her out of the Great Hall.

*

Theon and Ygritte spend the next week basically living out of each other’s pockets.

They study together, eat breakfast and lunch together, and walk around highly populated areas conspicuously together. Ygritte is actually quite cool, once Theon gets to know her—even if he still thinks she’s a bit dim in the head for fancying Jon. Her vicious sense of humor is different enough from his usual friends that he finds himself making jokes and laughing at things he usually wouldn’t. It’s nice, not being the darkest person around.

She reminds him of his sister.

He’s sequestered a desk in the Slytherin common room during one of their moments of separation, trying desperately to find another two inches to add to his essay for Seaworth when Sansa and Arya accost him.

“Hello Theon,” Sansa says, sitting down across from him. Arya just glares.

“Hello,” he says slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my common room too,” Sansa states.

“I meant her, but fine. Do you need something?” he asks.

“Are you taking Ygritte to the dance?” Arya blurts. Theon blinks at her.

“Arya!” Sansa scolds her. Arya rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. Are you?”

Theon’s eyes dart between the two of them. _What the hell is happening_. “I am. What of it?”

Sansa puts an elbow on his desk and rest her chin on the back of her hand. “We were just wondering why.”

“Because I want to,” he says, laying his hands on the desk.

“But _why_ ,” Arya buts in. Sansa shoots her a look, and she scowls.

“You tell me why you’re going with your Durmstrang student, then we’ll talk.” He taps his fingers once, twice.

Arya presses her mouth together and makes a face. Theon sticks his tongue out at her.

“What Arya means,” Sansa starts, glaring down the inevitable eye roll. “Is that we didn’t know you two were so close.”

“There’s a lot you two don’t know about me,” Theon says, leaning back.

“We’ve seen you in the same ugly Christmas jumper for six years,” Arya scoffs. “You’re not that mysterious.” Theon frowns. Robb got him that jumper. It was hideous, yeah, but he wasn’t just not going to wear it.

“Look,” he says, fed up with nosy little not-sisters. “She hot, I’m hot, we’re both perfectly willing. Do I need any more reason than that?” He looks between them, then smirks. “Unless you two want more of the dirty details—”

Arya shoves his head away. “Gross, no.”

Sansa sighs, and stands up. “We just wanted to make sure you were happy, that’s all.”

“I am, thanks. I’d be happier if you let me finish this bloody essay,” he huffs. Sansa smiles at him and nods.

“Goodbye, Theon,” she says, pulling Arya toward the door. Arya turns back long enough to pull another face at him, and Theon retaliates.

_That family is bizarre_ , he thinks and turns back to his essay.

*

“What do you figure the second task will be?” Robb asks, the two of them and Jon clustered together in one of the Hufflepuff common room’s many nooks. “It’s got to be pretty soon after the ball and I’ve still no clue.”

“Maybe you’ll have to tame a rabid wolf,” Theon says, flicking his wand and sending a crumpled piece of parchment into Jon’s face. “Based on your family’s dogs you’d be spectacular.”

Jon scowls and tosses the parchment back at Theon, hitting his nose. “Maybe you’ll have to swim in the lake.”

Robb frowns. “I wish they’d let us compete in teams—you’d be way better at that than me, Theon.”

“And I’d have run away the second I found out I’d be facing those dragons.” Theon scoffs. “Face it, Stark. The goblet decided you were the perfect Hogwarts student to nearly be burnt to a crisp.”

Theon had put his name in, of course, even if everyone knew who was going to be their champion. And if it had stung, just a little, when even a giant bloody cup had known that Robb was too good for him, well. He was past that now.

 “Greyjoy,” a clear voice calls from next to him, and Theon turns to see Ygritte. _Perfect_.

“Ygritte,” he grins, putting on the casual charm expected on him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Happy accidents,” she grins, like Theon hadn’t slipped her directions on how to get in for this express purpose.

“Very happy,” he drawls. “You’re just in time.”

“Oh?” She asks, only the brief quirk of her eyebrow indicating she finds that as entertaining as he does. “Why’s that?”

“The boys and I were just trying to figure out what the next task’ll be.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Any insider information you’d like to share?”

“As if,” she laughs. “Can’t be seen helping the enemy, can I?”

“Where’s your sense of inter-school unity?”

“I’m sure I can find some other way to show it,” she says, smoothing her fingers down his tie. Across from them, Jon makes a soft choking noise.

“Well,” Robb cuts in. “I’m sure if Gendry figures something out he’ll let me and Margaery know. You can tell him I’ll do the same.”

“Sure,” she says, shooting a look at Theon. “Guess I’ll be going now.” She ruffles Theon’s hair and saunters her way out of the common room.

“I have to, uh, go.” Jon stands and hurries toward the Hufflepuff dormitories.

“And then there were two,” Theon says, leaning back into his chair.

“That was cruel.” Robb is looking at him intently.

“What? Asking Ygritte for information?” Theon waves his hand. “She doesn’t care.”

“No,” Robb says. “You know what I mean.”

Theon scoffs. “I’m not going to ignore her because Jon’s being pissy.”

“But you don’t need to flirt with her when you don’t even like her.”

“Who says I don’t?” Theon asks, tilting his head.

“I—” Robb starts, then looks down at the table. Well, it wasn’t exactly how Theon had planned this all to go, but he’d take it.

“You know Jon likes her,” Robb continues.

“So?” Theon raises an eyebrow. “She’s been dropping hints for a month now—hints so obvious even _you_ could tell. If she wants to move on to more receptive pastures, who are we to stop her?”

“You could be a little more considerate of his feelings,” Robb frowns.

“She doesn’t belong to him, Robb. She’s a person. She doesn’t have to sit and wait for him to give her the time of day.” Theon sighs. “And if Jon wanted to go to the ball with her, he should’ve asked her.”

Robb jerks to look up at him. “What do you mean, should’ve?”

Theon shrugs, standing up and grabbing his bag. “I’ve got some stuff to go do. See you at the ball, Robb.” He leaves, stomach too jittery and pulse too quick.

*

The champions and their partners—or should he say, the three Starks and their dates—are all gathered by the door to the Great Hall. Even Theon can admit that Jeyne looks pretty in her flowery red dress, but he only has eyes for Robb. Even in basic dress robes, with only accents of the same red Jeyne is wearing giving them any interest, Robb looks like the best thing Theon’s ever seen. The dull lighting in the corridor is glinting off his hair, turning it gold and copper and—

And Theon needs to stop staring.

Margaery, in light blue and gold chiffon, is laughing prettily behind Robb. On her arm is Sansa, red hair braided, in a white gown with golden leaves edging the neckline and low back. The gold matches her with Margaery, but the rest of her dress is different enough to dissuade any idea that Sansa might be rooting for her date against her brother. Theon is begrudgingly impressed.

Arya’s dress shows no such subtle negotiation of image, but it’s pretty enough. Short and blue, and probably with hidden pockets, it’s nice enough that Sansa probably had a say but still thoroughly Arya. The full skirt balances her nicely next to Gendry who, being one of the few male students smart enough to opt for a standard muggle suit, is all broad shoulders and sharp lines.

Ygritte appears next to him, in a black, form-fitting dress that looks like she was sewn into it. Her shoulders and neck are ringed in strands of pearls, matching the shimmering embroidery in Theon’s jacket. Her hair is piled atop her head, but she can’t be wearing very tall shoes since she’s still shorter than him. She looks phenomenal.

“How do you even move in that?” Theon asks in lieu of a greeting.

“Dark magic,” Ygritte says primly. He almost believes her.

“Well, you probably don’t need to hear it, but you look fucking stunning.” He says. She smiles up at him.

“Thank you. Nice coat,” she replies, nodding at his jacket. “And congratulations on being the most fashionable male in this entire castle.”

“I try,” he says, and they link arms.

He chances a look back at the champions, and locks eyes with Robb. Theon smirks at him and gives a little wave. Robb is weirdly slow in returning the wave, but Theon’s distracted by Ygritte’s quiet exclamation of “Ah!” next to him.

“What is it?” He asks, following her gaze until he sees Jon. “Oh, Merlin.”

“We match,” Ygritte grins triumphantly.

“ _We_ match,” Theon says. “Jon just doesn’t own any clothing that isn’t black.”

“He’s got that one tie,” she says, shifting them to a gap where both Robb and Jon can see them, and they can pretend not to notice.

“That’s his Hufflepuff tie. He literally _has_ _to_ wear it.”

“Don’t be bitter just because you’re worried he’s prettier than you.” Ygritte smirks, showing her teeth.

“Fuck off,” he says. Ygritte laughs, bright and loud. Theon grins at her.

The Great Hall is unlike Theon has ever seen it. The long tables are gone, replaced with round tables for eight arranged around the edges of a dance floor. The sky is a deep, midnight black, sparkling with stars. The walls are frosted artfully, glittering in the light of the candles hovering above them. Ygritte whistles lowly.

“This is _nice_ ,” she says.

“Hogwarts can occasionally step up,” he responds, craning his neck to look around them. “Not that I’ve ever seen the Great Hall like this before.”

The band strikes a chord, and everyone quiets. Headmaster Baratheon stands up, face as stony as ever.

“As is traditional for the Triwizard Tournament, the Yule Ball takes place between the first and second tasks. As part of the mission of promoting cooperation across schools, the Ball is a chance to better get to know your fellow students.” He turns to the band, nods, and raises one hand. “And now, the opening dance.”

“Cheery, that one.” Ygritte snarks as the music swells. Theon is too busy focusing on the middle of the floor to respond.

The champions and their partners lead that first dance, something Theon had initially been very quietly interested in. Now, he spends the whole dance scowling at Robb and Jeyne while Ygritte shifts them ever closer to the corner Jon’s lurking in.

“Are you going to brood the entire night or are you going to be a big boy and show your crush what he’s missing?” Ygritte says, snapping in front of his face.

“Jon watching?” He asks.

“Can’t take his eyes off me.” She grins, sharp, and he smirks at her.

“Well, in that case.” He sweeps into a little bow. “May I have this dance?”

“Thought you’d never bloody ask.”

A handful of songs later, Ygritte co-opts them a pair of chairs at a table full of Durmstrang students, and Theon heads over to get them some drinks. It’s less loud over by the refreshment tables, though still fairly crowded. It’s not too much of a hassle to snag a couple of drinks, and when he turns around, there’s Robb.

Theon blinks. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey!” Robb says, shifting back and forth.

“I was just getting some drinks,” he says, gesturing with his hands.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, me too.” Robb says, and reaches around him to grab one. Theon can feel his breath on his neck. It’s—He’s fine.

“Nice dancing earlier,” Theon says as they walk back toward the tables. Robb flushes.

“I know I’m not very good—”

“Nah,” Theon interrupts. “I mean, Sansa and Margaery had everyone beat but you were way better then Arya and Gendry.”

“Thanks,” Robb says. “You and Ygritte certainly seem to know what you’re doing.” Theon smirks. They’d been pulling out their best, most distracting moves whenever Robb or Jon had been close.

“We try,” he says as they reach the table. “Special delivery,” he tells Ygritte as he drops into the chair next to her.

“Oh, mystery punch. My favorite.” She flutters her eyelashes exaggeratedly. “Oh, hello Robb! You looked good earlier,” she winks.

“Thanks.” Robbs says, shifting on his feet. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Why, thank you,” Ygritte grins.

“Robb!” a female voice calls. Robb turns, and Jeyne is standing behind him. “Oh, hello Theon, Ygritte.” She smiles at them. “How are you two tonight?”

“Brilliant,” Ygritte responds. Theon takes a drink.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it!” Jeyne beams. “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Robb, your sister wants you. She said something about your song coming on soon?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Robb puts his drink on the table and looks at Theon. “We’ll chat later, yeah?”

“Sure,” Theon says, watching him go.

“He was nice,” Ygritte notes when Jeyne pulls Robb back to the dancefloor.

“Uh huh,” His mouth is very dry. Must be the punch.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be so nice.” She frowns.

“He’s always nice. He’s Robb”

“Yes, but I’m the date of the man he’s supposed to be in love with. And he was nice to me.”

“Well, Ygritte,” He swallows, turning his eyes away from staring at Robb’s head. “I think the problem is maybe that he isn’t in love with me.”

He and Ygritte dance a few more times, stopping for drinks when the room gets too hot. They’re sitting down, chatting with a table of Ygritte’s Durmstrang friends, when Jon approaches.

“Ygritte,” he says, only just loud enough to hear. “Would you like to dance?”

Ygritte accepts, obviously and quickly, and Theon watches them walk off and start dancing. They match well, a sharp contrast of dark and bright in the swarming mass of people. Then they disappear, the crowd swallowing them, and his job is done.

*

It should be cold outside, but some professor or another has put up a warming charm on the gardens so that’s just cool enough to be refreshing. Theon thanks them in his head, wandering down to a fence where he can lean and look out to the lake.

At the end of their third year, exams nearly finished and the weather finally warm, he and Robb would go down to the lake as often as they could.

Robb was a terrible swimmer, even then, so Theon would show him a few things and then inevitably end up lapping around and around, Robb sitting in the shallow edges of the water. Once, Theon had swum up to him and turned over, letting the water lap at his sides while he lay in the sand. When he opened his eyes, Robb was looking down at him, silhouetted by the sun.

Theon had wanted to kiss him, then.

He huffs, shaking his head. _Sentimental idiot_ , he thinks. _Take a bloody hint and learn to move on_.

 “Hey,” a voice says, and then Robb is next to him.

“Hey.” Theon replies. He’s not sure why Robb’s out here when Jeyne isn’t, but. Gift horses and mouths.

“I think my brother might have stolen your date.” Robb says, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, I know.” Theon rolls his eyes. “Finally.”

“Sorry?”

“He’s finally worked up the balls to ask her out, thank god.” Only took the idiot too goddamn long, but it wasn’t like Theon was really in a place to judge.

“You… You’re happy about this?” Even confused, Robb’s still stupidly handsome. “I thought you liked her.”

“Façade,” Theon drawls, scratching at his wrist. “I mean, she’s loads beyond your brother when it comes to good company, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t fancy her or anything.”

“Then why did you…”

Well, in for a penny. Maybe not in for the whole pound, exactly, but Robb probably deserved most of the truth at this point.

“We had a deal. I offered to pretend to be into her, take her to the ball so she wouldn’t have to go alone when Jon chickened out of asking her entirely, and ideally, make him jealous enough to realize she was worth doing something.” Theon smirks, nodding his head back at the castle. “Seemed it bloody well worked, too.”

“So, you… lied?” Robb sounds wounded, now, and this is exactly why no one should have let Theon have friends.

“I mean, we never actually told anyone we were together,” Theon shifts uncomfortably. “We just flirted a bit and let people extrapolate,” he says, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “And we didn’t lie about going to this thing together.”

“And all that stuff you said when I told you he liked her?” Robb frowns. Gods, but Theon wishes this conversation was over.

“I meant it,” he says, biting his lip. “If Jon wasn’t going to do anything about it, then he didn’t deserve Ygritte.” He scrunches his nose. “He still doesn’t, if you ask me, but that’s her prerogative, not mine.”

“Wow.” Robb says. Theon shrugs, silent. “So you and Ygritte never—”

“Whatever you’re thinking, nope.” Theon shakes his head. “’Massively gone on someone else’ isn’t really my type.” Ha.

“And you just decided to help her and Jon together, what, out of the kindness of your heart?” Robb is really not letting up on the questioning, which is a problem because Theon is running out of answers that don’t reveal his massive crush on his best friend.

“I have a very kind heart, Stark.” Theon tries to joke.

“Yeah, but you don’t like letting other people see it.”

Theon doesn’t so much respond as make a sort of strangled, choking noise. Robb is looking triumphant, like he’s just figured out the last step of an increasingly complicated puzzle.

“And I’ve never known you to help Jon when you’re not getting something out of it.”

Theon grasps for something to say. “I got to make him miserable for a week, is that not enough?” He tries to plaster on a smirk. Even he’s not convinced.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

Theon swallows, unable to answer. He looks back out over the lake, shimmering darkly in the night.

After a long moment, Robb asks, “So what did you get out of it?”

“I….” Ah, shit. He really doesn’t want to admit the pathetic asshole he’s been. But Robb had sounded so lost when Theon had admitted to the week-long lie of omission and the only way he can figure to make up for it is by telling as much of truth as won’t ruin their friendship. “The same deal, more or less. Only not Jon, Christ.”

“Oh.” Robb blinks, an indecipherable emotion flickering across his face. “How… has it worked?”

“Not very well” Theon says dryly, the words spilling out of him. “It didn’t help that the person I was aiming for was never really into me in the first place.”

Robb laughs, but it sounds sharp, brittle. It’s not the way Robb should sound when he laughs. “Then they’re stupid.”

_You’re not stupid, you just didn’t think I’d do this to you_ , Theon thinks. “You said it.” He says, then pushes off from the fence.  “Anyway, enough of my melancholy. Why aren’t you inside with your date?”

“Oh, Jeyne’s dancing with guy from Beauxbatons right now.” Robb says, then adding, “He seemed very nice.”

“You’re out here freezing with me when your girl is inside dancing with another bloke?”

“She’s not my girl, and she can dance with whoever she likes. And I like hanging out with you.”

“Yeah, but what’s a Yule Ball for if not hitting on your date.” Theon scoffs.

“I’m not here with Jeyne because I want to hit on her.” Robb shakes his head. “I said yes because she’s my friend, and she seemed excited, and…”

“And what?”

“And I guess I was kind of playing the same game as you. Only instead of making someone jealous it was more… Trying to convince myself not to be.” _What in the hell_ , Theon thinks.

“You’re the Hogwarts champion, you could’ve taken any girl to this thing.” He protests, then thinks. “Well, excluding Margaery. Probably.”

“By the time I worked up the courage to ask them, it looked like they already had someone. So.” Robb shrugs. In the half-light, the gesture is liquid, electric. Theon is completely lost.

He stares at Robb, unbelieving. “I’m not convinced she wouldn’t have come running if you had asked anyway,” he says after a pause. Robb moves to protest, but Theon waves a hand at him. “I know, I know, you’re better than that. But still.”

“They aren’t a she, actually. They’re a he.”

“Oh. Well. It honestly still applies.” Robb cracks a grin at that, looking down. Theon bites his cheek, head swimming.

They stand, side by side, for a long moment. Theon takes a breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me? About all of it.” Has he really been so caught up in his own life that he hadn’t noticed something going on with Robb? “I know I’m not the best at feelings or whatever, but you’re my best mate. I’m supposed to help you with shit like this.”

“You seemed busy,” Robb says. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ygritte?”

“Wasn’t my secret. And you could never lie to Jon.” Not the whole truth, and doesn’t Theon feel like shit for it.

“I did try to tell you, actually.” Robb leans forward onto the fence, hands clasped together. “Remember that breakfast, when I came over to your table? But then Ygritte was there, so.”

“Oh.” Robb’s truth, foiled by Theon’s lie. Gods, but he was a terrible fucking person. “Sorry.”

“Can I tell you what I was going to say, then?”

Theon nods. He’s been a shit friend, but maybe he can start trying to fix that.

“I was going to say that I’d decided to turn down Jeyne because I wanted to go with someone else. That I wanted to ask someone else.” Robb breathes, deeply. Theon can’t look away. “And then I was going to ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

“To go to the ball. With me.” He says, eyes very, very blue.

“Shit,” Theon says, and kisses him.

He pulls back almost immediately.

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—“

Robb kisses him, mouth warm in the cool chill of the gardens. It’s hot and slick and Theon grabs for Robb’s head as soon as it registers that he’s actually kissing back. Robb’s hair is soft and curly and probably going to be a giant mess later, but he doesn’t even want to think about letting go. Robb’s hands tuck inside Theon’s coat and roam all over his hips and back and Theon wants him to never stop touching him like that, like he’s something special and Robb can’t get enough. Then his tongue is in Robb’s mouth and Theon forgets to think for a long moment.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Theon says when they pull back to breathe.

“I mean,” Robb protests, eyes flicking between Theon’s and his lips.

“No, really, the biggest idiot to ever exist—” Theon shakes his head, grabbing Robb’s hands. “Robb, the person I was trying to make jealous was you.”

Robb looks at him, grins, starts to say something, and smiles even larger. “Okay, yeah, you maybe are a little stupid.” He says eventually.

“I thought you were going with Jeyne Westerling!”

“I thought _you_ were going with Ygritte!”

“I wasn’t going to go alone!” Theon sputters. “And it didn’t look like you were going to ask me.”

“I’d been trying work up the nerve since they announced the bloody thing!”

“Well, I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen!” Theon freezes. “Shit. That’s— You weren’t supposed to—“

“Me too,” Robb smiles. “Took me a little longer to realize it, but.”

“…how long?” Theon asks.

“Fifteen?” Robb says, sheepish. Theon stares at him.

“Okay, so we’re both fucking idiots.”

“Um, maybe not here?” Robb is grinning, face flushed.

“Oh my god.” Theon’s in shock. He’s in shock, and hallucinating.

Robb, somehow, is even redder than before. “You’re the one who showed up in that outfit,” he says, eyes flicking up and down Theon’s body.

Theon’s grin is slow and sultry. “It is a great outfit, isn’t it.”

“It really is.” Robb traces his hands across the line of Theon’s shoulders, the collar of his coat.

“I’m actually a little offended by your dress robes,” Theon says. Robb looks confused, so he hurries to make his point. “They’re stupidly simplistic but you still look fucking _edible_ in them.”

“Oh?” Robb practically _squeaks_. Theon’s almost worried he’ll burst into flame if he blushes anymore, so he kisses him.

And kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. Robb’s robes are getting progressively more rumpled, and Theon’s probably going to have stubble burn for a week. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 “Hey.” Robb says, breath ghosting over Theon’s smile. “I’m glad we got here. Even if it took three years.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Stark.” Theon’s glad too.

*

They go back inside, eventually. Robb waves across the hall at Jeyne, who waves back and flashes them a thumbs up. Thankfully, since Theon hadn’t even thought about how to break the news to her if she hadn’t already figured it out.

They spot Jon and Ygritte at an empty table and push their way over to them. Robb holds his hand the entire time.

“Mind I we join?” Robb asks when they’re close enough to hear, and the two of them sit down.

“Oh Theon, I’m breaking up with you.” Ygritte says, half draped over Jon, who is nearly vibrating with delight.

“Ah, my heart has cracked in twain.” Theon replies flatly. “How shall I ever survive.”

“Robb knows a resuscitation spell. Though, I think it requires mouth-to-mouth.” Jon says as Robb loops an arm around Theon’s waist.

“Ygritte, did I ever tell you about the time Jon was five and decided he wanted to run away with our dogs—“

“Oi!” Jon starts to lunge for Robb, before realizing exactly how much of Ygritte is balanced on him and settling back. “Stuff it, unless you want me telling Theon all the embarrassing stories he doesn’t know.”

“Please, Jon,” Theon scoffs. “I goaded him into half that shit. I _created_ those stories.” Robb beams at him, and Theon can’t help but smile back.

“Oh, gross, they’re adorable.” Ygritte says, and Theon rolls his eyes.

“Welcome to my entire life,” Jon complains

Jon, Theon figures when the four of them stumble, laughing, out of the hall at the end of the night, can fucking deal with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorting, if you’re interested, is as follows:
> 
> Gryffindor – Robb  
> Hufflepuff – Jon  
> Ravenclaw – Sam  
> Slytherin – Theon, Sansa  
>    
> I couldn't decide between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for Arya so I just. Didn’t specify.
> 
> Margery is from Beauxbatons and Ygritte and Gendry from Durmstrang, of course. Stannis is the Hogwarts Headmaster and Davos teaches Charms and heads Hufflepuff because. You know. Badger.
> 
> Also, because it’s a Yule Ball fanfic and I couldn’t just not pick out outfits for every body:  
> [Sansa](http://eclect-dissect.tumblr.com/post/178837430594/krikor-jabotian-spring-summer-2013), [Margaery](https://a-song-of-style.tumblr.com/post/157351281328/margaery-tyrell-ralph-russo-springsummer-2017), [Jeyne](http://eclect-dissect.tumblr.com/post/177500669019/lela-rose-prefall-2015), [Ygritte](http://eclect-dissect.tumblr.com/post/172978376512/galia-lahav-spring-summer-2015), and [Theon's coat](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-2019-menswear/alexander-mcqueen/slideshow/collection#41) but like, with more pearlescent embroidery instead.
> 
> All the other boys are bad at fashion and it fills Theon with pain.
> 
> (There might eventually be a POV flip of this for Robb because I have Thoughts, but… who can say.)


End file.
